


The Destroyed Beacon of Peace

by aislingyngaio



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, JainaWeek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingyngaio/pseuds/aislingyngaio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaina revisits Theramore in the aftermath of Garrosh's trial. Slight spoilers for WoW: War Crimes. Written for #JainaWeek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Destroyed Beacon of Peace

The silence was deafening.

Even a year after its destruction, there were no spirits haunting Theramore. Not from that first incursion led against her father, nor the last that resulted in…

Jaina Proudmoore, the lady of Theramore that was no more, swallowed a sob that she feared would not long be suppressed. She didn’t know why she’d returned, after not returning since the mass burial that preceded Rhonin’s memorial at Dalaran. There was neither life nor answers to be found here.

Only death. Death and a ghoulish monument of a city, a warning reminder, that peace would probably never be possible between the factions unless there was a greater evil at stake.

Northwatch Hold had long been retaken, fully repaired and re-staffed with Stormwind troops. Theramore, in contrast, was left alone, with its yawning crater speaking volumes of its sad ending. An entire city wiped off the history books, left in the mere footnotes as just another casualty of the never-ending war between Alliance and Horde. No one would ever remember Theramore as what it once was any more.

More than a strategic foothold in Southern Kalimdor for the Alliance, more than a bustling port city in the dangerous swamp, more than the birthplace of her now dead 7th legion, it was supposed to have been a symbol of peace.

Perhaps it was seeing herself in the Vision of Time in Pandaria, being forcefully reminded of her golden-haired self, her kind, warm, idealistic heart. Jaina couldn’t help it as she finally allowed herself to relive Theramore once again.

Not the Theramore in the end, but in the beginning. Where orcs were allowed into the city for trade or sanctuary from the swamp. Where orc drinks aren’t considered treasonous to have if one had the inclination for them. Where, for even a few short years, she and Thrall - Go’el now - had made peace at least a possible future for them all - had made that possible future something worth giving up her beloved father for.

 _Go’el_ … she thought sadly, as a sudden wind blew around her, causing her white hair to obscure her view. Even though she had forgiven him for what he had inadvertently done to her and hers - what his decision had caused to Kinndy, to Pained and Tervosh and Rhonin - it was so hard, so very hard to forget that while she gave her father up in the name of peace between their factions, Go’el had sacrificed that peace in the name of the Horde, for Garrosh Hellscream had never made his enmity for the Alliance a secret, not even during the Northrend campaign.

And now Orgrimmar still thrived, unmolested by her father's rancor, while Theramore was only dust and ashes, and so very quickly forgotten except as a proof of how despicably Garrosh had acted. Forgotten except when she, one of the only survivors - certainly the only one visible enough to still have a say in Azeroth politics - appeared, her white hair a stark contrast to the single golden strand left. Murmured comments and pitying glances always followed her, whispering how sad it was the way Theramore ended.

No one would ever murmur again how Theramore had lived.

Jaina unconsciously grasped that single remaining lifeline to her past self, wondering why she had been given it. Even before the Dalaran Purge, it had been a constant struggle to remain neutral, to be what she had tried so hard to be in the past, even when no one else was interested. So why was she not wholly turned?

 _Maybe it’s a reminder of your failure_ , a snide voice whispered in her head.

_Maybe it’s a reminder of your hope_ , another small voice disagreed. 

The former lady of Theramore closed her eyes in agony and confusion. “Was I wrong, Father? Or were you?” she asked pleadingly, sightless face tilted to the heavens. “Or had we both been wrong?”

Only the gentle breeze surrounding her bore witness to the single tear rolling down her face as she waited for an answer that would not come.

_\- Finis -_


End file.
